


Nuts and Bolts

by Creatortan



Series: Kyman Week 2018 [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: AWESOM-O 4000, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, Bounty Hunter Kyle, Bounty Hunters, Crossdressing, Kyman - Freeform, Kyman Week 2018, M/M, Robot gore?? Kinda, Space Pirates, android cartman, jealous kyle lol, phone destroyer, they go on missions together hhhh teamwork
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-05-31 15:01:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15121952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creatortan/pseuds/Creatortan
Summary: Kyle is a bounty hunter. He specializes in speed, discretion, and bringing his hits back alive. His newest contract should be simple: a rogue AI, Mephesto brand model. Calls itself "Cartman." Obviously, things don't go as smoothly for Kyle as he'd hoped.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title is prob gonna change, im jus hella tired ahdjfkglh it was my sisters party so i didnt have a lot of time to really do this right hhhhhhhh 
> 
> i love this au so more will prob be added to it lol

The bar was the exact kind of sleazy that attracted a certain kind of crowd—the lights were dim to cover the grime on the walls, the music thundered in a monotonous beat, miscellaneous garbage littered the perimeter, and the smell was a vile combination of assorted bodily fluids and alcohol. The patrons had hair-trigger tempers and noose-like vices. It was the kind of place that used to make Kyle’s skin crawl, but these days it was one of the few establishments that would service him—if they knew who they were serving.

Kyle felt glass crack and shatter under his boots as he made his way to the bar, carefully avoiding contact with the other patrons. He grimaced at the stains on the barstool, but sat down anyways. He waited for the bartender—a vaguely humanoid species with prehensile plant-like growths—to approach him first. Her eyes were covered in thick, dark goggles, but Kyle could tell she was looking him over. He ordered a drink and watched in slight disgust how she plucked a sac from one of her vines to squirt into the foggy cup.

The glass was cold even through his gloves.

“Apparently there’s a rogue AI problem in this city,” Kyle stated simply. He saw the subtle tensing of the bartender’s shoulders, and how a vine slipped down from the set to sneak under the counter. The bartender didn’t look at him, but her voice had an edge when she spoke.

“What do you want?”

“I’m looking for a Mephesto model, about twenty years old.” The bartender’s shoulders relaxed a fraction.

“Any more details?” The bartender’s eyes went shifty.

“Calls itself ‘Cartman’” Kyle noticed how the bartender shuddered at the name. Her lip curled distastefully.

“Yeah,” her voice suddenly became bitter, angry, “Yeah I know of a _Cartman._ He didn’t say much but he got busted up pretty good when he started talking shit. He can’t have gotten far with how wrecked his leg and arm got.”

“Any idea where it could be headed?”

“There’s a trade moon near here. He could try to hit up a ship on its path, if he were smart.”

Kyle left some credits on the counter before exiting the bar with a nod to the bartender.

Kyle’s ship, the Ivory Commerson, was a one of a kind little craft built for speed and stealth and tricked out with all the most useful gadgets Kyle could get his hands on. Kyle turned on his scanners and opened up the transport database of the trade moon. He let the computers run their calculations and sat back to re-check his blasters.

Eventually the screen blipped, and the scanners had locked onto the CS Wraith, a slow, bulky looking cargo ship. Kyle swiveled in his seat to face the control panel. The ship looked harmless enough to not have much in the way of defenses, but Kyle didn’t like taking chances, so he still turned on cloaking as he set the Commerson to trail behind the Wraith, hidden amongst the cloud of litter.

Kyle let the Commerson inch up close to the hull of the Wraith, before climbing the ladder up and out the top hatch. He crouched on top of his ship, eyeing the maintenance panel on the Wraith as he reached behind himself to click on his jetpack. With a faint hiss, his pack activated, and Kyle sped towards the Wraith. He grabbed hold of the ship as his own started to slink further away until he needed it again. Kyle pulled his skeleton key out of his pocket, slapping the device onto the hull of the ship and activating it. Within seconds, the hatch opened for him.

Kyle swung into the hatch legs first, shutting the door behind him on the way in. The room was a clinical white, but oddly enough, had no visible maintenance panels or toolboxes which usually sat on the walls of such ships.

Kyle’s helmet displayed his scanner and a map of the ship. According to the scanner, there weren’t any signs of life in the general vicinity, which left Kyle able to traverse the halls freely as he made his way to the cargo bay.

The ship seemed...almost eerily quiet. The only sounds were the dull roar of machinery and the thudding clang of Kyle’s boots on metal. The walls were white, the lights even brighter. A cleaning drone zipped in front of Kyle, unable to see him due to the cloaking device in his mask.

A blip on his scanner. Kyle turned down a hallway, following the abnormality on his radar. With the current settings, it was either a person, or Kyle’s mark, and with the vast emptiness of the CS Wraith, he was almost hesitant of which he would prefer to see. Lost in his thoughts, Kyle almost passed the door he was looking for. He cursed himself for his unprofessional lack of focus, but before he could move, the door slid open automatically.

Well. If he was caught already. Kyle’s blaster pointed to the figure in the room before he could even distinguish what it was. The figure jumped with a screech, pressing itself against the wall when it saw Kyle. Upon further inspection, the figure appeared to be a human man, shorter than Kyle, heavyset, with the biggest honey-gold eyes Kyle had ever seen.

“What the _fuck!?”_ The man shouted. “Who the fuck are you?”

The man’s eyes were trained on Kyle’s blaster, which was still aimed directly at him.

“I don’t think you’re in the position to be asking me questions.” Kyle responded cooly. The man didn’t appear to be part of the ship’s crew, so Kyle could only assume he was a stowaway. “Who are _you_ and what are you doing on this ship?”

“Wow, seriously?” The man raised his hands in surrender when Kyle’s blaster lit up. “Jesus—okay, okay! My ship broke and I was looking for parts to fix it!”

“And you couldn’t have done that back in town?” Kyle raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

“Do I _look_ like I have any money?” The man gestured to his cobbled-together attire, the stitches on his jacket were frayed at the edges, and his boots looked as if they were falling apart. The bandana around his neck seemed to be held together by sheer willpower alone.

“Fair enough.”

“Great. Now if you’ll excuse me,” the man gestured with a thumb behind him, “I need to get a few more things then I’ll be on my merry way—and I suggest you should be too.”

Kyle’s eyes narrowed. He was about to say something when the ship took a sudden lurch to the side, throwing them both off their balance. The lights flickered dangerously before sputtering back to life with a whirr.

 _“Shit!”_ The man cursed. He looked directly at Kyle, suddenly serious. “We have to get the fuck out of here.”

“What the hell? Why? What’s going on? What do you know?” Kyle reared up on the man, who had begun scrambling with something in a duffel bag behind him. The man seemed suddenly unafraid of Kyle’s blaster, which was still pointed at him.

“Do you have a ship nearby?” The man asked, “Because if you don’t then we’re _fucked.”_

Kyle let out a growl of frustration, the knuckles of his left hand turning white around the handle of his blaster. In a fit of rage he shoved the man against the wall, glowering down at him.

“Cut the bullshit and tell me what’s going on— _now.”_

The man looked up at Kyle with wide eyes, dazed.

“I….” For a split second, his gaze glanced down. He shook his head. “Pirates.”

 _“Pirates?”_ Kyle said in disbelief. The ship rocked again. The man stumbled into Kyle’s chest awkwardly. Kyle looked down at him and blinked, almost too distracted by this new weight in his arms to notice the incoming barrage of red dots on his helmet display.

“Son of a bitch—” Kyle muttered. “We have to get to an escape pod before they find us.”

“Yeah! That’s kind of what I’ve been saying!” The man pushed himself away from Kyle, his hands still resting on Kyle’s forearms. Kyle rolled his eyes, unseen from behind his helmet.

Kyle dragged the man behind him into the hallway, trying to navigate the twisting corridors without running into the scattering mass of pirates.

“Shit—why isn’t the crew taking care of them?” Kyle swore under his breath, backtracking down the hall when he saw incoming dots on his display. The man scoffed.

“This entire ship is automated—that’s why they’re hitting it.”

“Automated? There’s _no one else here?”_ Kyle shuddered. They turned another hallway.

“Why the fuck else would it be called the _Wraith?”_ The man still followed closely behind Kyle, somehow not out of breath, which surprised Kyle considering his size. “It’s literally a ghost ship.”

“Then why were all the lights on?”

“Because I turned them on, dumbass.”

Kyle glared before remembering the man couldn’t see his face. Before Kyle could respond, he noticed two pirates rapidly approaching their position, and he yanked the man into the nearest door.

Unfortunately, the door led to what looked like an open foyer, with a single pirate standing in the center, slurping on some sort of drink pouch. The pirate choked on his drink, dropping it as his eyes boggled.

“Eric?” the pirate said, incredulously. The man with Kyle—Eric—swore loudly, then he grabbed the blaster from Kyle’s hand and shot at the pirate, just barely missing his face as he ducked.

“Eat shit, Stoley!” Eric yelled, grabbing Kyle’s hand and hightailing it out of the room. Kyle stumbled behind Eric. Pirates were alerted to their position and began closing in. A short, redheaded pirate stood in front of them, a hefty grenade launcher strapped to his arm. His eyes were big behind his goggles, childlike, almost. Eric hesitated with Kyle’s blaster, and Kyle wrenched the gun away from him, intending on shooting the pirate when Eric spoke:

“You’re still with these posers, Dougie?” Eric said. “Fuck it, I don’t have time for this.” He yanked Kyle by the hand and started running in the opposite direction. The pirate fiddled with the gears on his launcher, still unmoving. “Butters misses you!” Eric yelled behind them. Other pirates began moving in behind them.

Eric stopped in front of a trash chute, looked both ways down the hall, and clicked his tongue.

“Enjoy the ride.” Was all he said before bodily shoving Kyle down the chute. It wasn’t Kyle’s first time going down a trash chute, unfortunately. He recovered from the shock quickly and held his arms close to his chest. He heard the chute rumble behind him, probably from Eric’s descent.

When Kyle fell into the pile of garbage he quickly rolled out of the way, just in time for Eric to come tumbling out. Kyle grimaced. The garbage smell took forever to get out of his clothes.

Eric sat up, shaking his head. Paper stuck in his hair, and with the already rumpled state of his clothes, Kyle would’ve thought he was home. Kyle chuckled at the thought, catching Eric’s attention.

“There’s a trash pod near here,” Eric said, brushing the dust off of his pants. “All we have to do is get there before the pirates do and we’ll be golden.”

“How do you know that?” Kyle’s eyes narrowed, yet he still followed Eric.

“Same reason I knew the pirates would strike this ship.” Vague.

The garbage disposal unit had a door, which opened as Eric placed a hand on the keypad.

They tracked down the dark hallway, moisture dripping on the damp metal around them, the smell of oil and steam in the air. The underbelly of a ship never really needed to look pretty.

They could see the pods at the end of the hallway, just a stretch away, when suddenly:

**_“ERIC!”_ **

A slightly nasally, rage filled voice boomed and echoed down the hull of the ship. At the other end of the hall stood an intimidating alien pirate. His eyes glimmered with anger, and he held a blaster in one hand, and a gooey looking pod in another.

“Shit!”

And then they were running. Blaster fire rang around them, the sparks lighting up the room sporadically. Kyle fired behind them. The pirate threw the pod down the hall, and it exploded in a mess of bright purple—the slime emitted began to sizzle, and Kyle watched in horror as the metal of the hall behind them was eaten away by the acid. The pirate continued to fire, and readied another pod from somewhere behind his head.

Kyle and Eric raced down the hallway.

“Jesus _Christ,”_ Kyle swore, dodging another fire of the blaster. “What the fuck did you _do_ to these guys?”

“It’s a long-ass story and we don’t have the time to talk about it, _okay?”_ Despite the panic in his voice, Eric sounded somehow embarrassed.

They made it to the end of the hall, but when Kyle tried to place his hand on the scanner it refused to recognize him. Kyle cursed. He took down his cloaking, and tried again. Still, the pod didn’t recognize him. Eric shoved him out of the way, putting his own hand on the scanner. The pod door opened, and Eric and Kyle clambered inside.

Eric scrambled to the controls. A calm, automated voice spoke over them:

“Crewbot detected; initiating disposal protocol.”

“Crewbot orders: engage disposal protocol 873-Hyperdrive.” Eric spoke, his voice cracking. They heard loud clanging from behind them. Kyle’s eyes widened. His heart was in his throat as the pod flickered to life, its engines humming around them.

“Order accepted, Crewbot,” the automated voice replied.

The pod shot from its docking bay, zipping away from the Wraith. Eric sighed, relaxing. Kyle’s eyes narrowed. He walked towards Eric, his blaster again at the ready.

“You—”

Before Kyle could finish the pod was hit by a cannon blast, sending it careening to the side, toppling upside down before the gyroscopic safety measures could kick in. Kyle was thrown around the tiny pod, barely able to cushion his fall with his jetpack. His arm crashed painfully into the side of the pod. Eric was in no better shape, caught underneath the control counter, clinging to its side. He pulled himself up, his arms shaking as he flattened his palms on the counter.

“Crewbot orders: engage safety protocol 599 level ten!” He screeched.

“Order accepted, Crewbot.” The pod’s lights turned blue, and a humming sound emanated throughout the room. The gravity in the pod was decreased, and Kyle floated gently.

Eric stayed planted to the floor, biting his lip as his hands flew wildly over the controls. The pod tumbled through the sky, dodging cannon fire. An asteroid belt appeared in the distance, and like a madman, Eric began flying directly towards it, much to Kyle’s protests.

Eric ignored him. And weaved through the asteroids. Kyle had just begun to have more faith in Eric’s flying when they were suddenly hit, a direct shot, with a cannon blast to the hull of the tiny pod. The lights flashed a dangerous red, the alarms ringing. The gravity suddenly returned, full force, as the ship began barreling through the asteroid belt. Asteroids banged into the sides of the ship. Kyle heard the horrifying sound of the metal being pierced. The disposal pod heaved to the right.

Then. The display of Kyle’s helmet went out, and he was left in darkness. The ship moved around him, but he had no idea what was happening. Before he realized, there were arms around him, and a head burying in his chest. Then. Impact.

The crash was softer than Kyle expected, softened by the safety measures of the pod, but still a crash nonetheless. Kyle groaned. He was laying on top of something warm. He propped himself up on his arms, and reached up a hand to turn his helmet back to manual mode. The black screens faded away, and Kyle was face to face with Eric’s pained grimace below him—and that’s when Kyle realized he was sprawled over Eric on the ceiling of the upside down pod.

Kyle rolled off of Eric. He stumbled towards the door of the pod, almost delirious with the impact of the crash. He carelessly opened the pod door, knowing it would have no effect on _Eric_ if there was an atmosphere on their crash site or not.

Thankfully, though, according to Kyle’s wrist scanner, there _was_ an atmosphere. Kyle walked out, looked around. It seemed as though the body they had landed on was a sort of dumping ground for waste, and the bio-materials had grown into their own kind of garbage based ecosystem. Gross.

Kyle heard a groan from behind him, and Eric emerged from the ship. Kyle’s lip curled.

“You. What are you?” Kyle asked, his voice cold.

“Fuck you, man,” Eric replied, “I got us out of there alive, the least you could do is thank me.”

Eric dropped his duffel bag onto the ground at the base of what Kyle assumed was a tree and collapsed next to it. He hissed and spread his legs in front of him. He pulled up a pant leg, revealing the mangled, burnt remains of synthetic skin over plates of dark, disfigured metal. Kyle’s lip curled.

“I was right,” Kyle said, his fingers twitching over his blaster. “You’re a robot.”

“Wow, so un-PC.” Eric rolled his eyes. “The correct term is _android.”_ His voice took on a mocking tone. “It was easy to insert myself in the ship’s system, though.”

Kyle’s hand clenched into a fist. Then he sighed. He collapsed against the tree next to Eric, suddenly exhausted.

Eric was fiddling with the wires in his leg, trying to reattach them, bending the metal. Kyle peered at the injury.

“How did that happen?”

“Bar fight.”

Kyle’s eyes narrowed, suspicious.

“Yeah, I went to a bar near here recently.” Kyle tried to sound casual. “The bartender said something about a robot named _Cartman_ getting into a fight.”

Eric stiffened next to him.

“Yeah, what’s it to you?”

“Someone wants a lot of money for you, _Cartman.”_

Eric hissed. He rested his forehead on his knee, hissing under his breath, _“Motherfucker.”_

“So that’s it, huh? That’s your game?” Eric said, sitting back against the tree, his pant leg still hiked up around his knee. “You working for Mephesto? You gonna take me in? You a hitman or something?”

“Bounty hunter, actually.”

“Yeah fucking—whatever.” Eric’s face twisted. “Fuck. It’s not like you’re gonna be able to take me there, though, on this fucking hunk of rock.”

“My ship is on its way as we speak.”

Eric groaned, his hands twisting in his hair.

“God—fucking—” Eric sighed, his head thumping back against the tree. His hand covered his face. If Kyle were another person, he’d think Eric was on the verge of tears.

Then there was silence. Kyle glanced at Eric.

“What will they...what will they do with you when I take you to them?”

Eric scoffed, again, rolling his eyes.

“What do you think? They’re gonna take me apart and try to see how I work.”

“They—they’re gonna _what?”_

“Yeah, asshole, I’m an anomaly, a piece of fucking tech that strayed from their pretty little binary. So they’re gonna vivisect my innards and stick me under a microscope.”

Kyle frowned.

“What? What did you _think_ was gonna happen to me?” Eric asked, sardonic.

“Most of my marks are political criminals—they get put on trial.” It was Kyle’s specialty, bringing back his contracts alive.

“Machines don’t get trials.” Eric stared directly at Kyle with his big, unblinking golden eyes. Kyle shuddered.

Kyle’s mind churned. He bit his lip. His mask felt uncomfortable all of a sudden. He gripped the sides, unlocking the holding mechanism with a hiss. Kyle pulled off the helmet, shaking out his hair and relishing in the cool air on his face. He set the helmet down and, feeling eyes on him, glanced at Eric, who was staring.

“What?” Kyle asked.

“I—um—” Eric stumbled, “Your hair is a fucking distraction.”

Kyle patted his messy curls with an annoyed huff.

“Yeah, I know; thanks.”

“Why don’t you, like, dye it or something?” Eric asked, still staring intently at Kyle. It made Kyle feel like squirming, a little.

“Because my mother would fucking kill me.”

“Sounds like a bitch.”

“Oh what would _you_ know about mothers, _android_ ” Kyle said sarcastically.

Eric’s eyes darkened.

“Don’t talk about shit you don’t know.” His voice was deadly serious, without an ounce of annoyance or irritability—just pure monotone.

Kyle cleared his throat. He checked his scanner. The Commerson was a little ways away.

“You checking for your ship?” Eric asked, the seriousness of his voice gone. “What the fuck is taking it so long anyways?”

“It can’t go any faster than cruising speed or else it’ll disrupt the cloaking.”

Eric groaned. Kyle agreed with the assessment. It was the waiting game.

“So...we’re gonna be here a while?” Eric asked.

“Yup.”

“Can I at least know the name of my captor? Only seems fair since you know mine.”

Kyle blinked. He then realized that, yeah, Eric _didn’t_ know his name, and until about three minutes ago, didn’t even know his _face._

“Uh, Kyle.”

“Your name is _Kyle?”_ Eric said, disbelieving. “You’re a fucking bounty hunter and your name is _Kyle?_ Jesus Christ that is the _lamest_ name you could have.”

“My name isn’t important to getting the job done.” Kyle crossed his arms, a flush on his face.

“Yeah, but no one’s gonna be scared if big bad _Kyle_ is coming after them.”

“Shut the fuck up, Cartman.”

“Oh no! What’s _Kahl_ gonna do? File my taxes?”

“Oh my god—”

“Waah! It’s _Kahl!”_

 _“Now you aren’t even pronouncing it right—”_ Kyle gritted his teeth.

“Mommy help me; scawwy Mr. _Kahl_ is gonna—”

Kyle slapped a hand over Eric’s mouth with a loud slap. He leaned in close.

“If you don’t shut the hell up I swear to god I will leave you on this fucking rock when my ship comes.”

Eric blinked, pinned against the tree by Kyle’s arm. Kyle saw him swallow thickly.

“You got it?” Kyle pressed a little harder on Eric. His eyes fluttered to a half-shut and he sighed slowly, before blinking and nodding. “Good.”

Kyle released Eric slowly, trying to ignore the weird impulse to pin him down again. There was something about the look in his eyes, of slight fear and something else, that really _got_ to Kyle somehow.

The silence wasn’t doing much good for Kyle’s mental state.

“Tell me about the pirates,” Kyle said, “What’s with you and them?”

Eric flustered.

“It’s nothing important, just some bullshit.”

“It’s obviously important if they _wanted to kill you so much.”_

Eric picked at the sparse grass around them. Kyle stared at him, an eyebrow raised.

“We don’t have anything else to do, so you might as well get to talking.”

Eric looked away, the dark gray soil at their feet somehow very interesting in that moment.

“Uh, their captain is kinda my ex.”

Kyle blinked. “What?”

“The really, _really_ angry one that kept shooting at us? Yeah. Him.”

“I’m guessing the breakup wasn’t mutual?” Kyle swallowed around the awkwardness in his throat.

“More like ‘I left him in the middle of the night’ kinda breakup,” Eric replied. Kyle gave him a look— “I wasn’t proud of it, okay! Jesus. Don’t judge me before you know the whole story, _Kahl.”_

“So what _is_ the whole story?”

“I can’t stay in one place for very long—for obvious reasons—so leaving was just the natural thing to do—”

“Right, because leaving in the middle of the night _isn’t_ a total dick move.”

“Let me finish!” Eric shouted, “Anyways, so Clyde had a thing for his first mate, right? But Token was seeing this girl Nichole and was gonna give up pirating for her. So I thought, ‘hey, if I leave really suddenly and Clyde is sad, Token will have to come back to comfort him and leave Nichole and they’ll fall in love and live happily ever after!’ So I left and it worked!”

“It worked? How can you tell?” Kyle asked.

“Token had a ring he was gonna give Nichole,” Eric smirked, “I saw it on a chain around Clyde’s neck.”

“Lucky shot.” Kyle whistled lowly, somewhat impressed.

Eric cleared his throat, mumbling into his fist.

“I also stole both of Clyde’s hands.”

“You _what?”_ The whiplash from that sentence so suddenly made Kyle’s head spin. He shot to face Eric.

“I needed new hands, and Clyde was rich enough to get new ones! God you act like I killed his cat or something.”

“You took a man’s _hands.”_

“They weren’t his _flesh and blood_ hands! They were robotic!” Eric argued. “Besides, going hand shopping was a _great_ first date idea for Clyde and Token.”

Kyle slapped a palm to his forehead. The Commerson was still twenty minutes away.

They chatted about various things—the state of the Federation, which brand sold the best ship parts, the feasibility of peace throughout the galaxy, the weather. Well. Chatted is a strong term. They mostly argued.

It was refreshing, almost. Kyle was usually alone on his hits, and he missed being able to talk to someone who could keep up with him. Eric bounced back with ideas at a rapid pace, forcing Kyle to brush off his debate skills, which was pretty fun. He wasn’t keeping score, but every time he forced Eric’s hand to concede he felt a rush of victory.

The Commerson soon appeared in the distance, and Kyle sighed in relief at the sight of it. He missed his little ship; he always would during hits.

“Cute little thing,” Eric said, coming to a stand next to Kyle.

The Commerson landed gently, a little puff of dust kicked up by its descent. Kyle walked with Eric onto it. On board, Kyle grinned at the familiar control panel and sat in his chair for takeoff. Eric stood behind the chair, and Kyle could see his uncomfortable shuffling stance in the reflection of the windshield.

The Commerson lifted off of the asteroid. Their crashed pod simply became another piece of the mess as they rose above it. Kyle opened his map, punching in a few coordinates and fine-tuning the trajectory. He was fiddling with the cloaking when Eric spoke up.

“So, uh, aren’t your hits usually restrained when you’re taking them to their doom?” Eric tried to force some humor into his voice, but the undertone of fear sounded clearly.

“Yeah, my hits are restrained.” Kyle responded. “But my hits are only on _people_ , and if my contractor doesn’t believe the hit they’re sending me for _is_ a person, then, well, I’m not obligated to deliver.”

Kyle watched Eric’s face soften in the reflection.

“I... _what?”_

“If Mephesto doesn’t think you’re a person, then their side of the contract is void.” Kyle felt a bubble of joy burst into something warm in his chest. Eric’s face had melted into pure relief. “Though they aren’t gonna fucking like it.” Kyle muttered the last part bitterly. “We’re gonna have to lay low while I dissolve this contract, so we’re going somewhere off the grid. Safe.”

The ship went silent again. Kyle watched Eric’s reflection. His face softened into a small smile he thought Kyle couldn’t see.

“Thanks, Kahl…” Eric mumbled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cartman needs some new parts, so the two go on an elaborate mission to steal some.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took forever but yanno what? im so happy w it!! here's the song mentioned heavily in the chapter!! 

Kyle didn’t regret his split-second, impulsive decision to keep Cartman alive. But, man, he severely underestimated how much he enjoyed silence after a hit (or well, in this case, an almost-hit). After he slumped in his seat on the Commerson, all of the exhilaration and adrenaline from his little excursion left his body in a single shove. It was like he’d put on a suit of lead. Kyle was just. So tired. He wanted to let his ship go on autopilot and take a nap. But—

“You got any food around here?”

Cartman.

Kyle inhaled. Held his breath. Closed his eyes. Exhaled.

“Why…” Kyle’s voice was a barely concealed instrument of rage, “do you even _need_ food?”

“I like to eat.” Cartman sounded farther away than before, but it was hard to tell considering how small the Commerson was. Kyle heard sounds of him obviously rummaging through things.

“I’m not letting you waste my food, Cartman.” Kyle rubbed at his temple with his fingertips. “I actually _need_ it.”

“Yeah, well, I can process organic matter into energy, so unless you want me to drain your ship’s battery, I’m gonna need something to eat.” Cartman paused. “Or I could use my solar panels, but, uh, I don’t use those often.”

“Why _not?”_ Kyle groaned. There were plenty of light sources Cartman could pull from. Cartman cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Uh, they’re kinda more effort than they’re worth.” He made a sound of discomfort. Something crashed from behind Kyle. He felt a migraine coming on and he assumed there would be more on the way. Cartman continued. “I have to, like, completely go into sleep mode so they can activate. It takes a while to get back out of it, too, so I’d just be a sitting duck.”

Well. That made sense. Anything could happen while they were just flying through space. But—

“Why, though?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you have to shut down to use your solar panels?” Kyle leaned back in his seat. Cartman hissed from behind him.

“Uh, it’s like...a bug, I guess? Or a part of my original programming we couldn’t get rid of.” Cartman huffed out a laugh. “And believe me—we tried.”

Kyle furrowed his brow.

“We?” Kyle swiveled his seat around. Cartman was elbow deep in what Kyle affectionately referred to as his “junk drawer.” Odds and ends were scattered about the floor in neat piles.

“Yeah,” Cartman rolled his eyes. He blew his bangs out of his face. “Do you think I can keep up this impeccable physique on my own? I’ve got a guy.”

Cartman yelped, snatching his hand out of the drawer. The exposed machinery of his injured arm had gotten tangled in something broken. Kyle didn’t know what it was, but it was sparking, and Cartman was making little pained sounds as his hand twitched and tensed. His other, uninjured hand flapped at the wrist, panicked.

“Ow, ow, ow—” he whimpered. His fingertips touched the broken object and he squealed and jerked again. Kyle got up from his seat, walking over to kneel by Cartman’s side. He pulled his gloves out of his pocket and slipped them on, gently taking Cartman’s arm in his hands.

It was grotesque, in all honesty. The unblemished skin on the outside of Cartman’s arm felt smooth, realistic to the point where it was even covered in a fine layer of soft hair. The skin of the inside of his arm was mangled, gaping open and torn at the edges, as if something with dull teeth had taken a bite out of him. The exposed machinery pumped and moved like a heartbeat.

The object stuck in his arm looked to be an older model timing device Kyle was tinkering with before abandoning. Its exposed wires were tangled between the pistons in Cartman’s arm, the friction only further irritating the area. Kyle gently held the bulk of the device and flipped it on its side, careful not to jostle it too much. He quickly popped out the power source, tossing it into a pile next to him. The twitching in Cartman’s hand stopped, and he let out a gentle sigh of relief.

Kyle could’ve stopped there, but then he found himself with his fingers in the wires, carefully easing them out from between the running pistons. Cartman shuddered when a wire was slowly pulled out. Kyle untwisted the wires from each other, undoing the tangled knots, tugging them out until the timing device clattered to the floor.

But Kyle still hadn’t let go of Cartman’s arm. He leaned down to get a closer look. The edges of the skin were thick, their inside layer looked almost like memory foam. Kyle squeezed the underside of Cartman’s arm. The feel was lifelike, soft, but still had a give to it that would suggest muscle. Kyle looked back to the injury. He lifted his hand, and hesitated for a second before trailing his fingertips over the edge of the wound. Cartman’s breath caught, and the pistons in his arm began to pump faster.

Kyle didn’t dare glance up at Cartman’s face. Instead, he trailed his hand further down Cartman’s arm. Kyle held Cartman’s hand in his palm, running his thumb over his fingers to unfurl them.

Kyle inspected the lines on Cartman’s palm, tracing them with his thumb. He felt Cartman’s breath ruffle his hair.

“Do you...how did you get fingerprints?” Kyle asked, quietly.

“I...um…” Cartman’s fingers twitched under Kyle’s scrutiny. “I think they’re taken from old records. Like, thousand year old records of dead people. Or something.”

Cartman’s hands were shorter, thicker, than Kyle’s were. Kyle raised Cartman’s hand up. Unthinkingly, he held his own palm to it. Cartman’s fingers twitched again. As Kyle leaned back up, he could barely see Cartman’s face from behind their raised palms. Even still, Cartman’s honey-gold eyes glittered under the lights of the Commerson. Kyle wondered if any person could have their color naturally.

“So, I mean, if I commit a crime they’ll trace it back to some sorry fuck that’s been dead for a few generations,” Cartman joked, his voice wavering.

Kyle glanced up, his eyes locking with Cartman’s. Though Cartman’s gaze seemed a little far off, wide-eyed.

“So, uh, do you want to like...call ‘your guy’ to fix this…?” Kyle asked. Cartman blinked.

“Oh—OH!” Cartman shook his head, taking his hand back. “Nah, I don’t need to bug him with this. I can fix it myself if I get the parts, which—speaking of…” Cartman looked at Kyle expectantly.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, what do you need?” Kyle put his own hand back down.

“You know of a place that stocks Lupreicium Thanese plating, medical grade synthetic growth cells, and Kortryxian motor oil?”

“Jesus Christ I thought you said you had no money.”

“I _don’t,_ Kahl,” Cartman said, “That’s why I _steal_ it.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me like that, _bounty hunter.”_ Cartman raised his nose, making a flamboyant gesture with his hand. “Anyone who can _afford_ Lupreicium Thanese won’t notice if a few plates of it are missing, and they sure as hell won’t be hard pressed to replace it if they do.”

“Fair enough.” Kyle stood to walk back to his seat. “The synthetic growth cells would be the easiest to find, since hospitals are notoriously ill-guarded when it comes to inventory.”

 _“Kahl!”_ Cartman’s voice was faux scandalized, “You’ve _stolen_ from hospitals?”

“I have to keep my hits alive _somehow.”_ Kyle mumbled, _“Including you.”_

Cartman slid up next to Kyle, resting his arms and chin over the back of his seat.

“What’s the plan, boss,” Cartman said.

“Well, I’m scanning the area for any physical reserves of Lupreicium, and also surrounding frequencies for _mentions_ of Lupreicium in trade routes or sellers.” Kyle’s hands flew over the holographic display.

“What about the Kortryxian motor oil?”

“Oh, I already have some,” Kyle replied flippantly.

“You _what?”_ Cartman pushed off the chair, standing straight. “Well why the _fuck_ didn’t you mention that before?”

“Do you even _need_ the Kortryxian motor oil now?”

Cartman made a huffing sound. Kyle grinned.

“No…” Cartman mumbled.

The computer blipped.

“Oh, shit, we got something.” Kyle opened the notification, pulling up the inventory of a storage facility about half a system away. “Okay, so this place just got a shipment of Lupreicium Thanese from an….R.R. Elgadz.”

“That’s coo’ but how do _we_ get our hands on it?”

“Hold on, let me look into this place—” Kyle quickly typed in a few more commands. “So the InfiniVault facility is...only holding onto Elgadz’s Lupreicium for a short time before transport….uh...the only way to access his vault is with his personal information....” Kyle’s voice trailed off as he peered at the screen, his mind working a mile a minute to try and formulate a plan.

“If we can get close to this guy, I can use my Gnat system to hack into his personal accounts and make a copy of his information.”

“Jesus, where do you even _get_ all of this shit?” Cartman asked with a low whistle.

“Uh, stole some, built some…” Kyle paused, “The rest is because I’ve got a guy.”

“Oh-hoh, so Mister Bounty Hunter doesn’t _exclusively_ work alone, I see. Interesting…”

 _“Anyways,_ I’ve pulled up a profile on Elgadz.” Kyle gestured vaguely to the screen. Elgadz was mostly humanoid: blue skinned with a strong jaw, two pairs of deep-set eyes, and knobbly joints in his seven-fingered hands.

“He’s _so_ typical for a rich dude,” Cartman said, “I mean, drugs and women? C’mon, guy, you have to get more adventurous for once in your life. These days cheating on your wife just won’t cut it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Just sayin’ he’s boring.”

“He literally owns an entire planet.”

“And what has he done with it? Fucked hookers while his darling wife sips margaritas on the opposite hemisphere.”

Kyle rolled his eyes.

“Oh, hey, look here.” Kyle pointed to a blip on the map, “He made a reservation at the Sapphire Starlight Gentlemen's club for later today. That isn’t too far from here.”

“Kahl, that’s literally three systems away. I can understand making it to the InfiniVault from where we are but we can’t get to the club in time to meet up with the guy and then come all the way back.”

Kyle gave Cartman a pointed look, a smirk quirking his lips.

“I think you underestimate the Ivory Commerson.” Kyle opened a new display and entered his favorite command. A countdown began. “I also think you should sit down for this.”

Cartman looked panicked and a little helpless. He mumbled something about Kyle thinking too much.

“There’s only one fucking seat in here, Kahl!” His eyes glanced fearfully at the countdown.

“Just go hurry up and sit on my bed!” Kyle strapped himself into the chair. “I do it all the time—you’ll be fine!”

Cartman made a sound of frustration and scurried off. From the reflection of the windshield, Kyle saw him throw himself onto the bed, clutching Kyle’s pillow and curling up around it. Kyle laughed to himself. For a rogue AI running from the government, Cartman was surprisingly….cute? Urgh. That felt weird to even _think._

The countdown finally ticked to zero. The jump to hyperdrive on the Commerson wasn’t _as_ disorentating as it was on other ships, but it still slightly jerked you around, and caused a dizziness. Sometimes, if you weren’t used to it, or if you were running on an empty stomach, it could even fuck with your spatial awareness, making you feel as though you were standing just _slightly_ to the left of where you actually are. But Cartman wasn’t human, so he _probably_ wouldn’t have any side effects.

_“W҉ha̧t͢ ̧t͟h̡e ͡fuck͘”_

Kyle jumped. Nevermind about no side effects. Cartman’s voice had glitched out, layered on top of itself, lagging in places, half an octave too deep one second and too high another.

"J̢͟͜ȩ̷̛s͏u͏͢͞s̸ ̕C̷h͏ri̶͟͡st̛.͟.̷.͠what ̷the͜ f͟uc͏k ̷jųst... _hap_ pened there?” Cartman sat up on the bed, pawing at his throat. “Hello...hello...testing to see if Kahl caused  _permanent_ damage to my fucking voice. I guess not.”

“Uh, sorry, I guess.” Kyle was still a little unnerved by how Cartman’s voice slowly sorted itself out, easing back into normalcy like pudding sliding off of a tilted plate. “But...we’re here.”

Cartman stumbled up next to Kyle, blinking and holding his head. Maybe there were more side effects than just the voice thing. Kyle probably should’ve warned him…

“How the fuck…” Cartman mumbled.

“You don’t see this kind of hyperdrive in your momma’s cruiser, I can tell you that much.” Kyle sat back, a little smug at the awed and confused look on Cartman’s face.

The planet home to the Sapphire Starlight was essentially an extended red light district and ugly rich man resort. It had all the pretty lights and name brands but was really just a cover for some of the skeeviest people in the galaxy. Starlight seemed to be the most...sophisticated of the clubs, though, less than an actual strip club and more of a place to see genuine performances. Performances of beautiful women in pretty, sparkly clothes, but still, they weren’t naked at least.

Kyle landed the Commerson somewhere discrete. He pulled up the line for the Starlight again and turned to Cartman.

“Before we do anything: we need a plan.”

“Right…” Cartman’s voice extended the word skeptically.

“My Gnat needs to be within a three foot radius of him, and I’m gonna need time to fine tune it to the right frequency. Depending on the security around him and the amount of people in the club, it could take anywhere from fifteen minutes to an hour.”

“Jesus Christ,” Cartman balked, _“An hour?”_

“It’s technology, Cartman, not a fucking miracle,” Kyle said, “I can get us in easily—I can hack the system to recognize us as any staff member, but we still need a way to get near Elgadz for long enough for the Gnat to work. My first thought is that we could drug him, but then getting him to follow us or get him out of there—”

“I’ve got a plan,” Cartman interrupted Kyle. “Just let me see the club’s setlist real quick.”

Cartman pushed Kyle to the side, messing with the list of identities the computers would check for. He typed in a few things, his bulk blocking Kyle’s view.

“Aaaaand—done!” Cartman stood back, “Now all you need to do is give _me_ the Gnat.”

“Wait, what the hell did you do?” Kyle furrowed his brow, leaning forward to try and decipher what Cartman did. Cartman had inserted himself as a staff member, but Kyle didn’t know the that specific coding lingo well enough to understand what he did in particular aside from that.

“Give me the Gnat and I’ll get close enough to this guy for it to do its job.” Cartman’s voice was so full of self-assured confidence Kyle was almost persuaded into believing it.

“But what _are_ you going to do to him?”

“Kyle.” Cartman swiveled Kyle’s chair around to look him in the eye. Kyle looked up at Cartman’s serious expression, and felt a flash of _something,_ a little warm, but also very...confrontational? Before he could analyze it, though, Cartman continued: “I’ve done this exact job a thousand times. I _know_ how to schmooze a rich man. I can get close enough to him for the Gnat to work, and _you_ can focus on the frequencies or whatever as, like, a bartender or something.”

“Okay, but I still don’t know how you’re planning on accomplishing that.”

“Oh my _god.”_ Cartman pinched the bridge of his nose in a way that painfully reminded Kyle of Stan. “Kyle. Just...just _trust_ me on this. Besides, it’s not like _you_ have any other ideas, aside from drugging a six and a half foot, two hundred pound man out of a crowded and high class club.”

Kyle stared at Cartman, searching his face. Cartman stared right back, defiant, stubborn. Kyle made a face, sighed, and leaned back.

“Fine.”

Then the top hatch to the Commerson opened, and Kyle gestured for Cartman to get a move on.

Kyle turned on his backup cloaking device, since his helmet was still charging, and, well, wasn’t very low-profile anyways. He and Cartman wandered around the back streets, turning down several generous offers for cheap drugs and cheap thrills. Cartman stopped them, though, with a hand to his temple.

“Jesus, what the _hell_ is that?” His face was pinched. “There’s something on you that’s giving me a damn headache.”

Kyle looked down. He didn’t know what could’ve been causing the issue...all he had on him that was even turned on was his cloaking—

Oh.

“Oh.” Kyle said, eloquently. He rolled up his sleeve and opened the settings on his cloaking device with a sheepish, apologetic smile. Kyle registered Cartman in the device, and Cartman sighed in obvious relief.

“Thank god,” he said, “that was like, having a thousand tiny drills all screwing into my _brain.”_

“Yeah, uh, sorry about that.”

“What even happened?” Cartman picked a finger in his ear, shaking his head.

“Uh, my cloaking device,” Kyle began, “It works by jamming frequencies of nearby tech with white noise. I guess I just...forgot it would affect you too.”

Cartman gave Kyle a sideways look, but stayed silent.

They came up to the back entrance of the Sapphire Starlight, entering with ease. Their only witnesses were the two loading drones from the next door sex shop and a drug addict in the middle of a high.

Though the club claimed to be anti-AI, it still was secretly staffed by an entirely robotic workforce, though the patrons weren’t aware of this fact. Kyle and Cartman found the dressing room for the humanoid workers, and Kyle immediately found the waiters’ uniforms, along with, thankfully, a wide and varied assortment of wigs. Kyle chose a shaggy black wig that hung passed his ears, brushing against the back of his neck. Stylistically, it was pretty far from Kyle’s normal hair, and it also had the added benefit of hiding his earpiece, which, speaking of—

“Cartman,” Kyle called to him. Cartman was looking over a row of wigs at the other end of the room. Kyle walked up to him and handed him the Gnat and his own earpiece. “All you have to do for the Gnat is wear it on your person _somewhere._ It’s already turned on, and so’s the earpiece.”

“Cool. So now that you’ve found your outfit—” Cartman gestured to the waiter’s suit in Kyle’s arms, “Go get changed and get out there. I’ve got my part down but it’ll take some more prep.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond. Instead he turned and began to strip. He heard a choking sound from behind him but when he looked, Cartman was searching through some clothing racks. Kyle packed his clothes into his Little Seal Pocket Pocket Dimension™, and gave a final look behind him before exiting the dressing room and wandering out into the club floor.

As a staff member, Kyle was essentially invisible, and no one even looked in his direction because they assumed he was doing something else for someone else. Very quickly, Kyle saw Elgadz. He sat directly in front of the stage, in what was obviously _the_ VIP seat. He sat alone, a drink in his hand, but often called over waitresses to flirt with and chatted with other patrons of the club, though he never let anyone sit with him.

Kyle waited some more, but despite how hard he looked, he couldn’t find Cartman.

“You okay?” Kyle muttered into his earpiece.

“I’m _fine._ Just give me a minute.” Cartman’s response was curt and entirely unrushed. At least he wasn’t in trouble, even if he _was_ taking forever in their very time-sensitive schedule.

Then, as Kyle stood near the bar counter, his eyes focused on Elgadz, the club lights dimmed. The patrons all eagerly rushed to crowd around the stage. The jazzy instrumental started up, and a shapely, heeled leg peeked out from behind the curtains. The singer’s silhouette stood at the end of the stage, still hidden in shadow. The instrumental came to a climax, and a sultry, husky voice began to sing.

_“I’ve been kissed before,”_

The spotlight turned on, lighting up the back of the performer. She was short and curvy, with tumbling blonde hair teased into careful curls.

_“Arms have held me fast,”_

She lifted her arms above her head, her hips shaking playfully as she brought them back down to wrap around herself.

_“You can tell by my kiss, you weren’t the first,”_

Then she turned around, and Kyle’s jaw dropped to the floor.

 _“And you won’t be the last,”_ Cartman sang, with a playful wink.

Kyle only knew it was him from his eyes; despite being half covered by the rolling bangs of his blonde wig, and colored by heavy eyeliner and smokey eyeshadow, their bright honey-gold color was unmistakable.

Kyle inhaled deeply, his eyes raking over Cartman. He was wearing a skintight black dress, sleeveless, with a plunging neckline and an outrageously high slit over the leg. A slit which revealed four inch, thigh-high, velvet boots, which matched perfectly with his long velvet gloves—both in a deep maroon color to complement the matching lipstick. He also had a sheer, reddish shawl draped over his arms that glittered under the lights.

He pranced around the stage, dancing expertly in his heels. The audience was completely bewitched, and Cartman was masterful in keeping their attention. He subtly drew their eyes to his hips and legs and throat with every passing lyric. He let his shawl gently brush over the men in the front row, teasing them, as he made his way down the stage. Kyle had almost forgotten why they were even there, until Cartman’s impish eyes had locked onto the man sitting front and center the VIP table.

 _“I was born to be kissed_ ,”

Cartman’s look, his posture, towards Elgadz, was _dripping_ with intent.

_“To kiss and be kissed, and I’ll be kissed again,”_

He ran his fingers over his lips suggestively. The rest of the audience was forgotten; though he danced the whole stage, his focus always came back to Elgadz.

_“But someday I’ll be kissed,”_

For a split second, Cartman’s eyes glanced up and locked with Kyle’s, and Kyle felt electrified. And then they were gone.

_“And maybe I’ll doubt,”_

Cartman returned to Elgadz, and between lyrics, he gently tossed his shawl over the man’s shoulders, urging him to lean forward, before Cartman had turned on his heel, the shawl fluttering back to his side, and he bent at the knees slightly with a little shake of his hips before rising back to a stand, obviously emphasizing his...a _certain_ feature for Elgadz.

_“That I’ve been kissed before,”_

Then the instrumental. Cartman danced with an easy, playful smile, his hair bouncing around his shoulders and face as he stepped in time to the music, still drawing attention to his legs and hips. He looked so free on the stage, like he was having the time of his life.

Kyle spared a glance over the audience and felt his stomach churn. He looked at Eldatz and felt even worse. All the men in the audience had the same smarmy, sleazy, self-satisfied look on their faces.

The lyrics returned for the last verse. Cartman sounded like he was putting his whole soul into the words, and they were full of a seductive energy, confident and sultry.

_“On that day that I'm kissed....”_

His voice became even huskier, a little lower, yet still soft around the edges. He lowered himself to lay on the ground, propping his face on his palm and gently kicking his legs. He laid at the very end of the stage, eye to eye with Elgadz. Cartman slowly ran his tongue over his lips.

_“I’ll even deny,”_

Cartman rolled over onto his back, his hair tumbling over the end of the stage.

 _“That I’ve been_ kissed—” (The sensual emphasis he put on kissed did something funny to Kyle.) “ _Before…”_

For the ending instrumental, Cartman kicked his legs up to the quickening beat, before rolling back over and sitting up for a final reclined pose, his legs elegantly tucked to his side, an arm in the air.

The crowd burst into uproarious applause. Kyle looked back at Elgadz; he was making a suggestive gesture towards Cartman.

Once the crowd began to dissipate, Elgadz leaned forward and was visibly talking to Cartman, his eyes openly raking down Cartman’s body. Kyle grimaced, but Cartman looked delighted. It was all part of the act, he supposed, because Cartman was able to descend from the stage and sit in Eldatz’s booth.

Kyle blinked. Cartman had slid up to Elgadz’s side, pressed against him, and Kyle scrambled to throw himself behind the bar and start fiddling with his half of the Gnat transmitter. He was frantically scrolling through the frequencies, trying to find Elgadz so they could get out of there. Every time he glanced up, Elgadz had his hands on Cartman, and Cartman was smiling at him sweetly. Kyle made a sound of disgust. He glared hard at Elgadz’s hands from where they sat low on Cartman’s hip.

He finally found the frequency but, as expected, Elgadz was under high security, so it would take an estimated twenty-five minutes for the Gnat to worm its way under his protections and copy his information. Kyle looked up again, Cartman had stood to pour Elgadz a drink, bending over the table, and Elgadz was obviously looking directly down the neckline of Cartman’s dress.

Kyle’s free hand clenched into a fist. For once, he wished he had a miracle.

The next twenty minutes was absolute agony. Kyle hated jobs where he had to wait in the first place, but _this_ was awful. He was powerless, and had to hope Cartman could keep Elgadz’s attention for the entire time without arousing suspicions. Though by the look on Elgadz’s face he sure was arousing something else…

The Gnat gently vibrated on Kyle’s wrist, alerting him to its completion. Kyle gasped. As he reached for his earpiece, he saw Elgadz and Cartman begin to stand, Cartman clinging to Elgadz’s arm and fluttering his lashes up at him. They began walking towards the exit, and as they moved Kyle saw Cartman’s eyes look around the club—looking for _Kyle._

Kyle activated his earpiece, still watching them closely. Elgadz’s hand was dangerously low on Cartman’s lower back.

“It’s done,” Kyle whispered urgently. He saw the brief flash of relief on Cartman’s face. “I’ll meet you outside.”

Kyle sped through the crowd towards the backroom. He bumped into patrons and actual staff alike. He didn’t even stop to change before he was out in the back alley of the Starlight. Cartman was there. Kyle felt himself physically relax at seeing Cartman standing there. Alone.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Cartman said, all the sultry playfulness of his performance gone, replaced with the familiar obnoxious tone Kyle was quickly growing attached to.

Kyle shouldn’t have been surprised—if Cartman could dance in those heels, it was obvious he could run in them too. They sped back to the Commerson, a little exhilarated.

Once they were back on the ship, safe, Cartman plopped down on Kyle’s chair with a groan. He pulled off his wig, tossing it somewhere onto the floor, and began peeling off his gloves and boots to join it.

Kyle began plugging in the Gnat’s data into his computer. He felt eyes on him, though, and when he looked back, Cartman’s eyes guiltily darted to his face from wherever they’d been looking before. Kyle wasn’t sure, since the movement was so fast.

“How’d you ditch that guy anyways?” Kyle asked, specifically keeping his gaze on the screen in front of him, and definitely not watching the way Cartman’s dress hugged his bare thighs in the reflection. Cartman was too short for his feet to touch the ground all the way, and when he leaned back in the chair the balls of his feet rested on the floor, his heels up as if he were still wearing heels.

“Took your advice and drugged his drink while he was staring at my tits.” Cartman rolled his eyes with a smirk. “Creepy asshole’s passed out in an alley as we speak.”

Hearing Cartman degrade Elgadz made Kyle grin.

“Oh, and also...uh...can we stop somewhere real quick so I can pick up another outfit?” Cartman tugged at his skirt. “I kinda accidentally left my clothes at the club.”

Kyle sighed.

“Hold on…” Kyle used the Gnat data to plug into Elgadz’s InfiniVault inventory. “Lucky for us, Elgadz keeps the overstock from his clothing store businesses in his vault.”

“He probably resells them in different systems so he doesn’t have to make more to fill his stores,” Cartman commented flippantly.

“Remind me and I’ll bring an extra Pocket Pocket Dimension so you can shove whatever you want into it. I have a feeling you’re gonna need a new wardrobe anyways.”

“Oh, Kahl, you’ve known me for so short yet you know me so well.”

Kyle rolled his eyes.

“Get out of my seat, I have to set us into hyperdrive again.”

Cartman’s eyes boggled.

 _“Shit!”_ he hissed, scrambling from the chair and racing to the bed again.

“Ay! Don’t get makeup on my sheets, Cartman!” Kyle called back, strapping himself into his seat.

“No promises!” Cartman replied, sounding like an absolute brat.

The ship shot into hyperdrive again, and within seconds, they were landing on the InfiniVault private moon. The problem with reliance on tech was that anyone who knew how to bypass it instantly had access to wherever they wanted, no matter how “secure.”

The Commerson ended up directly in front of Elgadz’s personal vault, and Kyle used the Commerson’s computer to connect to the vault’s access point. The door opened, and the Commerson was able to fly in.

The vault was massive, of course, but Kyle had a map.

“Here, take this Pocket Pocket Dimension and head about thirty paces in that direction. That’ll bring you to the clothes. I’ll get the Lupreicium Thanese and then come find you.”

“Why do _you_ get to come and find _me?”_ Cartman asked, annoyed.

“Which one of us has the map to this place?”

“Oh.” Cartman pouted again, “Fuck off, Kahl.”

“My pleasure.” Then Kyle started off in the direction of the Lupreicium Thanese. He reveled in the indignant spluttering behind him.

Kyle ignored _most_ of the things in the vault as he headed towards the Lupreicium Thanese. He may or may not have picked up a few useful rare items on his way there, but this was an opportunity he wasn’t going to miss out on. Thankfully, the Pocket Pocket Dimension was enough to hold it all. And if Kyle picked up too much Lupreicium Thanese it was simply because Cartman hadn’t told him exactly how much he needed. Better too much than too little!

Kyle wandered back to Cartman, who had changed into some comfortable yet sturdy looking jeans, chunky boots, and a shirt with a red jacket on top. He’d also somehow taken off his makeup.

“Yo,” He said simply, his hands in the pockets of his new jacket.

“You ready?” Kyle asked.

“As I’ll ever be.” Cartman shrugged. “Now we just gotta hit up the hospital and I’ll be fucking golden. I can’t wait to finally get all my damn skin back.”

“So the synthetic growth cells are compatible with your skin?” Kyle asked as they re-boarded the Commerson.

“Yeah.” Cartman didn’t give any more detail.

As predicted, the hospital was an easy hit. So easy, in fact, Kyle just let Cartman hit up the hospital buffet while he got the cells himself. They just...walked in, and no one questioned them. Well, Kyle used cloaking, yeah, but the organic staff and patients didn’t say a word. Kyle had gotten the cells so quickly, Cartman complained about not being able to finish his meal, and forced Kyle to sit and wait.

“Jesus Christ, do you even _need_ that much food?” Kyle asked, in disgust, as he watched Cartman indeterminately shovel food into his mouth, barely chewing before scooping in more. Cartman swallowed heavily, looking at Kyle with sauce slathered on his face, chewing a piece of meat between his molars.

“Probably not.”

“Fatass.”

“Ay! I’m not fat! I’m just built this way!”

They walked out of the hospital with no problem, but the second they stepped onto the Commerson, Cartman announced he needed time to digest and collapsed onto Kyle’s bed.

Kyle rolled his eyes. He’d kick Cartman out of his bed later. Now, though, he had to make a phone call...


End file.
